


Turn Me to Ashes

by Dancains



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cigar Smoking, Cozy Setting, Dubious Consent, Episode Related, M/M, Oswald initiates it but still..., Power Dynamics, Set during 1x14, This is...a bad pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 04:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12246999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancains/pseuds/Dancains
Summary: When Oswald finally responded, each of his words were filled to the brim with false sincerity--laid on so thick he almost started to believe them himself."Secrets from you, Don Maroni? I have none."[Oswald finds a new way to get out of a tough spot when Maroni brings him out to the cabin.]





	Turn Me to Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I wrote this....bye

Take another drag, turn me to ashes  
Ready for another lie?  
Says he's gonna teach me just what fast is,  
Say it's gonna be alright

 +++

As Oswald pulled the gun from the bag, he had a sneaking suspicion that something was amiss. This couldn't possibly be so easy. Nothing in his life ever was.

 He could still see Maroni out of the smudged cabin window, on the horizon with his broad back turned. He had said something about wood for the fireplace.

 Oswald pointed the handgun to the floor, angling it so it wouldn't ricochet towards himself, and fired, praying that the howling winds outside would muffle the sound. His stomach dropped as no bullet fired from the gun--just a loud click and a few tendrils of smoke. It was filled with blanks. 

 Fuck.

Hurriedly, he returned the weapon, shoved the duffel bag back under the counter and resumed his place in the main room of the cabin, perfectly timed with Maroni's return. 

"Have a seat. We gotta talk," he said curtly, gesturing towards the plush leather chairs by the fireplace. 

 In any other circumstances the setting might have been pleasant, Oswald mused. The chair was comfortable and the nearby fire warmed a chill he didn't realize he had been feeling. Despite this, Maroni's next words brought the goosebumps back to his skin.

 "I feel the time has come in our relationship when we should have trust with each other." 

 Ignoring the second armchair, Maroni carried over a a small wooden chair from the table they had eaten at earlier, placing it unexpectedly close to Oswald. 

 "Real trust...total honesty between us," he continued as he sat down, heavy gaze trained on Oswald, "no secrets."

 "I one-hundred percent agree," Oswald answered automatically. He retained a placid expression while sweat began to form in beads between his shoulder blades. 

Maroni knew, he thought. He knew about the whole goddamn Falcone situation, and had taken the trouble to bring him out here to this godforsaken cabin in the middle of nowhere to kill him. But did Maroni suspect that Oswald knew what was going on? If anything could be said about him, it was that Oswald worked well under pressure...and that he was always two steps ahead of anyone trying to get the better of him.

"So here's a secret to start off," said Maroni pausing slightly, as if for effect. "There is no guy with the thing. I lied."

Oswald played along. "I was beginning to wonder about him."

 "Now you."

 "Me?"

 "We're being honest. You have to tell me a secret in return."

 When Oswald finally responded, each of his words were filled to the brim with false sincerity--laid on so thick he almost started to believe them himself.

 "Secrets from you, Don Maroni? I have none."

 "Please."

 Oswald knew this wasn't something he could argue with. He steeled himself to put in place the plan that had been playing in the back of his mind since Maroni had announced their little "road trip". Since long before then even. Hopefully he had read his cards right.

 "Um, honestly..." he shifted his body language, tilting his face down slightly, and tried to look up at Maroni demurely through his eyelashes. "I think I know why you brought me here."

Maroni raises a thick eyebrow, "Oh? So, why did I?"

"Uh unh," Oswald waved a finger playfully, "don't you have to tell me another one?" He crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands primly over his knee. 

 Maroni's eyes followed the movement. Oswald thought he saw of glimpse of uncertainty cross his face, what might have only been a flicker of the firelight. Silence hung in the air.

 "I think," Maroni finally said, "that if you have anything important you want to tell me, now is the time."

 That wasn't really a secret. Or certainly, not a good one, but Oswald didn't argue.

 "Well, I guess I should tell you," he leaned forward and noticed that Maroni did the same, "that you didn't have to take us all the way out to this...cozy, secluded cabin...to impress little 'ol me." His words dripped with a coquettish charm. Or at least, he hoped they did.

 It certainly wasn't the response Maroni had been expecting. 

 "You think I brought you here...to impress you?" he asked carefully. Oswald could see the pronounced vein in his hand where it was clenched on his knee. 

 There was no going back now. He had never tried to seduce someone before, but he had plenty of experience manipulating people. And wasn't this the same thing? Later he would hate himself for it, but he felt an edge of excitement, a burning feeling under his skin that urged him forward.  

 He cast his eyes to the floor, as if he was too embarrassed to look Maroni in the eye. The tip of his tongue darted from his mouth to wet his lips.

 "I've noticed...how you watch me, Don Maroni." He nudged the tip of his dress shoe gently against Maroni's left calf, a movement that could almost be accidental. "I-it's okay. No one has to know. None of the guys have to know," he whispered hurriedly, "I k-know you have a reputation to mainta-" He was forced to look up abruptly as a firm hand grabbed hold of his chin. 

 "You better not be messing with me, Penguin...Oswald." Maroni's words were deceptively soft. His eyes were dark, hard for Oswald to read in the fading light.

 Oswald shook his head, as well as he could in Maroni's grip. "No...no, I'm not, please," he answered breathily. 

 Maroni's other hand seized the front of his suit pulling him forcefully into a sloppy kiss. Oswald had little idea what to do. He squeezed his eyes closed, letting Maroni take the lead and following his movements. When they finally broke apart, Oswald was breathing heavily; a big cocky grin was plastered on Maroni's face, all traces of suspicion seemingly gone.

What an idiot, Oswald thought. He smiled shyly back at him. 

 "You haven't done much of this before have you?" 

 "No, not really." He did his best to look embarrassed. He licked his lips, tasting the bitter coffee from earlier that day.

 "That's okay...that's okay." Maroni murmured, running a hand down his arm reassuringly. It reminded Oswald of the way someone might pat the flank of a startled horse. "How's about you come here."

He let Maroni tug him forward out of the chair and into his lap, straddling his wide spread legs. He felt impossibly large and sturdy against Oswald. A strong, musky cologne clung to Maroni's clothes, the cloying scent made him feel slightly light-headed. He absentmindedly wondered if the chair might break under their combined weight. The absurdity of the thought put a sly smile on his lips.

 "You like this, huh?"

 He nodded sheepishly. Vice like arms wrapped around him, keeping Oswald in place. One of Maroni's hands came up to the nape of his neck; when he carded his fingers through short, soft hair, the motion was surprisingly gentle. Maroni kissed him again, harder this time, the fingers in his hair now tight, guiding Oswald against him. 

 The flood of sensation reminded him suddenly of how little other people touched him, in his day-to-day life. He knew it was pathetic to be so starved for affection, but it felt pleasant and warm to have his chest pressed firmly against Maroni's stomach, to feel strong thighs under his own. 

They stayed like that for awhile, before he felt Maroni tugging at his suit jacket, so Oswald leaned out of the kiss to tug his arms out of the sleeves and let him push it off his shoulders. Maroni gave him a smug smile, eyes darting down Oswald's slim figure. 

 "Take this off too," he pulled at Oswald's tie. Oswald quickly undid it and let it drop to the floor. Maroni pulled open the top few buttons of his shirt, and Oswald felt a warm mouth on his neck, kissing and biting under his jaw. His fingers tightened in the back of Maroni's waistcoat, as he inadvertently let out a high, pitchy moan. He was starting to feel a hardness against the inside of his thigh as he shifted on Maroni's lap, unintentionally grinding against it.

 "Oh, fuck," Maroni grunted into his neck. Oswald kept grinding as Maroni kissed him on the mouth again, this time sliding an exploratory tongue through his lips. One of Maroni's hands moved to the front of his Oswald's slacks, the heel of it grinding against the burgeoning erection there.

 He felt his hips stutter reflexively at the unexpected sensation. Any sound that might have passed his lips was cut off by Maroni's mouth roughly meeting his. 

 He should find it repulsive, Oswald thinks, this brute of a man touching him. Maroni was a sadist and a thug. But instead, he felt wanted, desired. Even more than that, he felt powerful. One of the most powerful men in Gotham was desperate to get in his pants, and Oswald had him wrapped around his little finger. All he had to do was play coy and inexperienced--not a hard task when that wasn't at all far from the truth. 

 Oswald let himself get lost in the moment, his new found skills of seduction pulsing in his blood like a drug. He had always been an expert at finding people's weaknesses, discerning which cardinal sin could make a man crumble. Luckily for him, Don Maroni was largely driven by lust. 

 He half-gasped-half-choked as a calloused hand gripped him more tightly through his pants, squeezing experimentally. It brought him abruptly from his private reverie.

 "Shit, you're hard as rock already..."

 Oswald couldn't respond, his breath too strained. He was hyperaware of the other man's erection, strange and solid against his leg. It was still hard to fathom that he was the cause of it. 

Maroni put his hand on Oswald's face again, like he had so many times before, his voice hushed and reverent, "you're fucking gorgeous like this, you know that, kid?" 

He moved in closer, pressing his lips to the shell of Oswald's ear. "I've wanted to fuck you ever since I first saw you at the restaurant, since when you were some fucking nobody, some no-name dishwasher slob," he laughed, "do you want that? Do you want me to fuck you?" Maroni rocked up against him, as if to punctuate his point. 

 Oswald nodded, vigorously, as if a force was compelling him. "Please," he whined, D-Don Maroni..."

 Maroni put a finger to Oswald's lips, silencing him with a stuttering "Bu-bu-bup."

 "Sal," he corrected.

 "Sal," Oswald repeated obediently. 

Maroni kissed him again, seemingly please. His hands went to work at the front of Oswald's waistcoat, undoing the buttons. He pushed it off to reveal the suspenders underneath, keeping his pants up in place of belt. 

"So goddamn old-fashioned," Maroni murmured. He plucked at one sharply, letting it snap at Oswalds's chest. Oswald grit his teeth, nails digging into Maroni's back. 

 Over his shoulder Oswald could see the sun was setting and the sky had become a dark violet haze. It was mostly cloudless, and if they had been outside they might have been able to see the emerging stars, unhindered by the lights of Gotham city shining so many miles away.

 He turned his attention back to Maroni, and his voice quavered as he spoke.

 "Sal," the name was still foreign on his tongue,"...is there a bed in this cabin?" 

Maroni laughed again, breathing hot air against Oswald's mouth. 

 "Don't worry. I can tell you're a real princess type. Don't worry your pretty little head about it, we'll do it nice and proper on a bed for 'ya."

 Without any warning, Maroni rose from the chair. Oswald instinctively wrapped his legs tightly around him to stop himself from slipping to the floor. Maroni chuckled at the obvious surprise on his face, a deep rumbling sound Oswald could feel against his chest. Maroni carried him across the room and through the door by the kitchen, the only part of the small cabin he hadn't already seen. 

 Oswald couldn't help but make the mental comparison of a newlywed bride being carried over the threshold. He shuddered to imagine what his mother would think of her son being deflowered by a middle-aged mob boss. He pushed the thought from his mind, biting his tongue to distract himself.

 The bedroom was dark, only lit by the long stretch of light from the open doorway and the faint glow of the moon seeping in through the edge of the curtains. Maroni dropped him unceremoniously on the large bed, which was thankfully soft and forgiving on his bad leg. Maroni didn't move to switch on either of the lamps in the room, and Oswald figured that was for the best, at the very least so Maroni couldn't see the growing flush across his usually palid face.

 "Take the rest of that off."

 It wasn't a request. Oswald pushed himself up slightly from where he was sprawled across the bed and started undoing his dress shirt buttons with shaking hands. Maroni mirrored his action, his entire figure a dark silhouette in front of the open door. Oswald couldn't help but watch transfixed as Maroni shed his waistcoat and his shirt. He was everything Oswald wasn't, large and stocky, but evidently with muscle underneath. Dark hair peppered his chest and stomach, trailing down to the waistband of tented trousers. Maroni caught his glance, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. Oswald finally slipped his own shirt off, dropping it to the floor. 

Maroni leaned over the bed to kisss him again, one hand rubbing at the front of his Oswald's pants. Oswald whimpered into his mouth. Maroni undid the fastening on his trousers and pulled them from his legs, pulling off his shoes in the process. He broke away to toe off his own shoes before stepping out of his pants and boxers in one swift move. 

 Oswald barely had a second to take in the sight before he was pushed back into the mattress. Maroni's body was solid and heavy against him, grinding down on him to create a tantalizing friction. He wrapped his arms around Maroni's neck, not knowing what else to do with his hands. He threw his head back against the plush pillows as he felt their cocks press together through the thin fabric of his briefs. He almost didn't realized Maroni was talking to him.

 "You ever finger yourself before, or nah?"

 "Uh, yeah." The shameful admission made his voice crack.

 Still half-laying on top of Oswald, Maroni reached into a bedside drawer, before pushing a small bottle into Oswald's hand. He leaned back on his haunches and busied himself with a shiny foil packet. He glanced up at Oswald, giving him an encouraging gesture with his hand. Oswald suddenly understood the cue. He pushed off his briefs, fighting the urge to draw his leg together in embarrassment. He dribbled a generous amount of lube into one hand. With his eyes squeezed shut, he snuck a hand in between his legs and under his erection. With knees bent, he pushed impatiently at the tight hole. Soon he was moving two fingers in and out, scissoring them against tender walls of muscle. 

 He opened his eyes to see Maroni slack-jawed, enraptured by his performance. Emboldened by this reaction he spread his legs wider, pushing himself forcefully onto three curved fingers. Groaning, he adjusting to the dull pain of the stretch. From beneath the bangs that had fallen in his face, he eyed Maroni's condom-sheathed member, not unusually large but still daunting. Maroni took the bottle from him, slicking himself up without taking his eyes off of Oswald.

 "You good, babe?" he murmured, "You look damn good." He leaned into Oswald again, hips situated in between his spread legs. He pushed the soft fringe off of Oswald's forehead. "Tell me what you want, princess."

 Oswald's cock twitched against Maroni's stomach impatiently. He was mortified. 

 "Please," he huffed, "please, just...I want you..inside me. Now."

 Maroni watched him, still expecting something.

 "Sal." Oswald pleaded.

Maroni smiled, all gleaming teeth and shining dark eyes.

 Oswald slapped a hand over his own mouth as Maroni finally pushed in--slowly and then all at once--trying desperately to stop the loud whimper that was threatening to escape from his throat. 

The strange, tight fullness was nothing like his fingers, and the pressure of it seemed to put all his nerve endings on edge. He had no idea how thick it would be. 

Maroni tugged at his wrist, "Be as loud as you want, babe. No one's around for miles,' he whispered, "Just relax." 

Without a pause he thrust sharply back into him, building up into a quick, even pace. Oswald couldn't stop the embarrassingly high and reedy sounds he made every time Maroni slid back in, his initial discomfort eventually receding into something much more pleasurable. His fingers must have been bruisingly tight on Maroni's shoulders. He could hear the bed creaking beneath them with each snaps of the man's hips, paired with the sound of him panting against his ear with the exertion. 

His toes curled as Maroni suddenly entered him from a slightly different angle, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body. He spread his legs even apart further, ignoring the dull pain in his bad knee. As the pressure built up inside of him, his cock strained between their shifting bodies. 

Oswald barely registered that the whiny, incoherent babblings he could hear were his own, an ongoing stream of "right-there-right there-right-there-please-fuck-fuck." He gasped in relief as Maroni wrapped a large hand around his neglected cock, pumping him roughly, almost in time with his thrusts. Oswald rocked back into his hand, desperately, driving the man deeper inside him in the process. It was all too much too suddenly. 

He could feel a hot pulsing as Maroni finally came inside him. His own orgasm followed a few seconds later, leaving him shuddering and gasping as his come dripped from Maroni's fingers. He felt raw and ultra-sensitive after Maroni pulled out of him, his body clenching around nothing. Maroni casually wiped his hand clean on Oswald's chest, along with the rumpled sheets. 

After tying off his condom and tossing it into a wastepaper basket, Maroni slipped back into the bed, pulling the covers over the both of them as if it was something he did everyday. Oswald was glad to have the body heat against him, the cooling sweat on his skin was beginning to make him shiver. Maroni leaned away from him momentarily and rummaged in the same bedside drawer as earlier, withdrawing a thick cigar and a shiny silver lighter. The snap-hiss of the lighter illuminated his face for a few seconds as he lit the cigar, turning it expertly in the flame. Finally he leaned back against the headboard, taking a contented puff. He proffered it to Oswald, who took the cigar readily--simply another new experience in a night full of them.

 Oswald wasn't particularly surprised to notice that Maroni had fallen asleep beside him, after barely an hour of lying together in the dark. Their shared cigar sat extinguished in an ash tray. Loud snores reverberating from his open mouth, the only sound in the still room. he held his breath as he inched his way out from under the covers. Ignoring how cold the wood floors were on his bare feet, he quickly slipped his pants back on, scooping up his shoes and shirt with one hand. He watched Maroni's sleeping figure over his shoulder as he tiptoed out of the room. The fire had gone out, leaving the rest of the cabin cool and dark.

 He went to the kitchen and fished a set of car keys out of the duffel bag where he had spotted them earlier, slipping them in to his pocket. He only paused to pull on his shirt, jacket, and shoes, listening intently to the snores from the next room all the while, before he stepped out into the brisk night air. If his limp was more pronounced than usual, there was no one around in the empty forest to take notice.

He felt relief only when he had put a few dozen miles between himself and the cabin. It was only a matter of time before Maroni would have confronted him about his double crossing--certainly better to cut it off now, while he was still able. While he was still alive. He watched the night's stars twinkle and fade in the rear view mirror as he made his pilgrimage back towards the city's gleaming lights. The taste of coffee and sweet cigar smoke still lingered on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this fanvid (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdA4aenTgk8) for making me forever associate Lana Del Rey with these guys, hence the cheesy lyrics at the beginning. Also it seems there's just something about this pairing that makes fic writers want to put Oswald in Maroni's lap (myself included)...anyways please enjoy, any feedback would be fab...


End file.
